


Bruises on Canvas (Poison Me With Your Paint)

by sunenthusiast



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Hunter!Chan, M/M, Mild Angst, Mild Sexual Content, Power Dynamics, chan has a morality kink, gratuitous art and religious imagery, i see u corruption kink and raise u: morality kink, the usual vampire stuff, vampire!jeonghan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:34:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26397250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunenthusiast/pseuds/sunenthusiast
Summary: It shouldn't be hot, having a centuries old predator kneeling between your legs getting ready to suck the poison out of your thigh. But it was and Chan wanted so badly for Jeonghan to take a bite.Hunger was a whip around his throat and he was at the mercy of the wielder.
Relationships: Lee Chan | Dino/Yoon Jeonghan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 62





	Bruises on Canvas (Poison Me With Your Paint)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [infrequency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/infrequency/gifts).



> It's your birthday ! Boogie Woogie !
> 
> Thanks for the brain worms really truly I haven't known peace since you said vampire inner thigh bite so yeah. enjoy.
> 
> unedited, as always, so if u see a mistake: no u didn't <3

At best, the world was unkind to Chan. It wasn’t necessarily cruel or unforgiving, but it wasn’t exactly a place where he figured he was especially welcomed. Perhaps it was all in his head, but the way his chest and legs burned with every step toward the alley, he knew it wasn’t. The gods had it out for him. Every step forward was accompanied by several paces back--he was perpetually in between it all. 

He was cursed in a sense. He was designed to hunt, to seek out the unnatural and expunge it of its place; his kind was made for this. He was made to find what he wanted. His fingertips tingled, crackling with energy as he rounded the corner into the alley. He was aware of all the movements around him, listening to the wind for any sounds or secrets, focused on the thrum under his skin. He was hyper aware of everything, which is how he knew there was something there. He had found who he was looking for. 

His hand hovered over his dagger. “I know you’re there,” He called out. He twisted his left hand behind him and quickly cast a shimmer spell over the entry to make it appear as though there was a wall. “You can come out.”

A small shift in the air near him whispered: “What do you seek me for, hunter?” 

It sent a shiver down Chan’s spine. He swallowed thickly. “I’m not here to kill you,” He said. “I only have a question.”

A hum, almost like a purr, wrapped around him like smoke. “Shame. So young.” Chan shivered again. “How do I know you won’t try to kill me?” 

“The same way I am asking you to not kill me.” He was nervous but determined. He ignored the twitching of his muscles and forced his hands to relax at his sides as non-threatening as possible. 

“That’s not a promise I can make.”

“I will make it worth your while,” Chan said. 

There was a pause and then a crackle as the air warped around him, disturbing the dust and leaves in the alley, and out of the shadows he came. Like every myth Chan had ever read, the vampire was terrifying in presence. He felt his instincts screaming at him to run and hide, but he pushed it away in lieu of finally meeting the man he had learned so much about. The vampire looked as though he was carved of marble, hair falling in waves across his forehead and curling over his ears. He donned a black dress shirt, tight slacks, and had jewel encrusted silver rings and necklaces that caught the moonlight in flecks. His lips were pinked and eyes a dark brown, so dark they could be black. He was handsome, and Chan suddenly understood why this vampire was the one of the legends, bringing entire nations to their knees with only a whisper and a glance. 

“Jeonghan,” Chan addressed. 

Jeonghan looked wholly unimpressed, rolling his eyes at Chan. “Why did you bother to find me, hunter?” He asked. His voice had a strange echoing cadence to it that Chan felt the urge to be lulled by it. 

Chan sighed, shucking off his jacket, letting it fall to the ground to unbutton his shirt. 

“As pretty as you are, this hardly seems the place--”

Ignoring him, he exposed his chest, and the black mark of venom pumping through his heart. It stung and pulsed as it was revealed to a predator, clinging harder to his veins and making him grit his teeth to manage the pain. It came in waves. 

Jeonghan’s eyes went wide. He raised his hand, hovering at the level of Chan’s sternum, a gesture and a question. And Chan nodded, allowing the vampire to come into his space and look closer. He trailed a cold hand over Chan’s heart and he shuddered violently at the pain. The vampire looked amazed. “How are you alive?” He asked. 

Chan started to button his shirt back up. “Half witch. Some asshole hexed me with some mortal venom killer and ran. I thought I was going to die. Granted, I still am which is why I’m here,” He said. “My mentor told me the only way to live was to find an original vampire to reverse it.”

“I’m not an original.”

“No, but I’m not fully mortal nor fully witch,” He said. “So, a secondary who has made legend as a primary scaring off hunters and toppling governments will do too.” 

Jeonghan clicked his tongue at that. “Your mentor is Seungcheol.” It wasn’t a question. 

Chan nodded anyway. “And he said you owed our clan a favour.” 

“I do.” 

“I’m cashing in.” 

The vampire looked him over from head to toe once more before deeply sighing and ridding the fear glimmer, allowing Chan’s instincts to stop screaming at him. “Fine. Follow me,” He said. Chan followed the other easily into the night. 

Chan had learned about Jeonghan through Seungcheol early on, but he never knew how to think of him. He knew he was dangerous, cunning, breathtaking, and untrustworthy. But long ago, Seungcheol spared him, and a moral debt was incurred. And contrary to belief, Chan only hunted rogues, like everyone else in his hunters clan. The rogues were the ones who harmed innocents without cause or survival, nothing more nothing less. And Jeonghan did not, for all his eccentricity, fall on their radar. 

But Chan had been curious. 

So, he went looking, despite Seungcheol’s warnings. When he was looking, he wasn’t watching, and a witch too close to the trail hexed him. He had barely managed to drag himself back to their place and spent the better part of the week vomiting and shaking as the venom spread from his heart to his leg, tinging his skin a sickly grey and marking his left pectoral black. 

“You have three weeks to live,” Wonwoo told him gravely. 

Seungcheol told him how to find the vampire, how to coax him out of hiding, and the rest he would have to figure out on his own. That was two weeks ago, and as Chan stripped down to his jeans in Jeonghan’s expensive library living room, he thought he was managing things just fine. The vampire watched his every movement from where he sat on his velvet chair, sipping at a cocktail in a bourbon glass. The rug was plush and fuzzy under Chan’s feet with the fireplace crackling steadily at his back. The library was dark, all the windows covered with blackout curtains and the only source of light stemming from the chandelier of candles. There was a couch in front of him, paces away from floor to ceiling bookshelves stacked with books--a testament to Jeonghan’s wealth and age. 

“Where else is the infection?” He asked.

Chan wasn’t shy by any means, but he felt himself flush as he gestured to his right thigh. Jeonghan tutted. “Strip down, then. We don’t want to screw this up.” 

Chan obeyed, shucking off his clothes until he was in his boxers. He stood as proudly as he could, baring the expanse of his skin mottled with scars and bruises, as well as the infection which was steadily crawling through his blood. It cast an even worse darkened sickly grey under the candle light as it pulsed in time with his heart. It was a mark of shame he bore for turning his back for too long, for not doing right by his namesake. 

Jeonghan’s expression didn’t change at all, gaze raking over the hunter once more. “This will hurt a lot,” He said. “The infection has run deep.” 

Chan nodded. He could take it--he would have to--and he could take whatever Jeonghan would give to him and more. “Where do you want me?” He asked. 

“The couch will do. No sense doing this on my freshly washed sheets.” Jeonghan stood suddenly, gesturing to the longer deep red velvet couch in front of Chan. Once again, Chan obeyed easily, leaving his clothes in front of the fireplace, and laying down on the soft couch. He let himself sink into the luxurious cushions, enjoying a moment of comfort before the agony. “My my, you’re a good listener aren’t you?” Jeonghan hummed, kneeling beside Chan and rolling up his sleeves. Chan let his head lull to the side to watch the vampire begin to set up. 

He really was beautiful, but not simply because he was frozen in time by something unnatural, but because of the way he held himself and how he looked at Chan like a challenge to be won. It made something hot and possessive pool in his gut. Years of training meant he was able to hide the reactions he was having to Jeonghan’s gaze and care, despite his predisposition to causing pain--but the infection made it impossible to hide the way his heart rate kicked up. His pulse was visible in the way the black beat against his skin. 

Jeonghan delicately put a hand on Chan’s chest, letting his fingertips trail over the greyed veins. “You need not be nervous.” He murmured this, almost as if speaking to Chan’s heartbeat. 

“I’m not,” Chan said firmly, delighting in the way Jeonghan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

“I can tell when you lie, you know.” 

That made Chan smile. “Good thing I don’t lie. So, are you gonna suck this venom magic out of me or not?” 

“I’ll bite that attitude out of you if you don’t stop,” Jeonghan said with a scowl, eyes flaring black. 

Chan was a masochist at best and a brat second. “That could be a promise for later.” 

“We’ll see. If you live.” 

He smiled, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes. He hoped that Jeonghan understood this enough as a signal to start. The hand on his chest smoothed over the swell of his pecs and the plains of his abdomen, almost tenderly, tracing the ebb and flow of venom, as if he wasn’t about to pull a hex out of Chan’s blood with his teeth. He heard the rustling of Jeonghan settling above him and felt a puff of warm air over his heart. “Don’t fight me,” Jeonghan whispered, his cool lips brushing Chan’s skin before biting in deep. 

In Chan’s defence, it hurt. The pain was explosive, instant, and unlike anything he had ever felt. If getting hexed hurt, it had nothing compared to this pain. The scream that tore out of him as he jackknifed toward the pain felt like it had cut his throat into strands, bloody and raw. Jeonghan didn’t let up, only pushed down harder, arms holding Chan down at the hips and shoulders with inhuman strength. It seared, his blood molten, as he panted and cried, writhing and kicking as the poison fought to cling to him. If there were truly side effects of pleasure to a vampire bite, Chan couldn’t feel it as it burned so wildly that he thought his atoms were being split apart. It was pain, raw and real.

“Please,” He sobbed, unsure if what he was begging for was for Jeonghan to stop or hurry. Tears streamed down his face into his hair and the cushions. He was too mortal to withstand the pain, make sense of it and adapt to it, but he was too supernatural to have the luxury of blacking out from the pain. He was stuck and he needed to anchor himself. He reached out, blindly feeling for Jeonghan’s back and gripped tight to the material of his dress shirt bunched between his shoulder blades. He focused on the way he could feel Jeonghan swallowing the poisoned blood. Chan heard the other grunt at the effort of it, his nails digging into his hips a welcome pain to contrast the agony in his chest. It was then that he realized that the vampire was ingesting the poison. 

Chan weakly tugged at him, unable to move him from his chest. “Jeonghan p-please!” He stuttered around a pained gasp. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Jeonghan paid him no attention. He kept drinking for what felt like ages, and the pain eventually became a haze clouding Chan’s mind. He stopped kicking and pulling, letting himself be drowned in the sensation. And like every other pain he had endured, it eventually turned into a numbness. So much so, he barely noticed when Jeonghan stopped, licking the wound closed and smoothing his hand over the newly formed mark. 

Chan was panting, and Jeonghan’s other hand came up to Chan’s cheek, stroking over it slightly with his thumb, and his eyes slowly fluttered open. Jeonghan’s lips were stained a greyish colour and his eyes had faded back to their deep brown. “Are you still with me, Chan?” He asked, voice thick and sanguine, coated in blood. 

“Yes,” Chan croaked. His face felt stiff with dried tears tracks and his throat burned. He tried to lift himself up to try and look but the hand on his chest kept him down. “Did it work?” He asked. 

Jeonghan rubbed idly at the mark again. “Yes. It seems so, though I still need to do your leg,” He said. “That was the worst of it though.” 

“What about you?” Chan asked, worried. “What happens now that the poison is in you?” 

He stared openly at the hunter almost as if he was in awe, as though Chan had done something worth revering. “Nothing. It can’t harm me, beyond making me sick with the likes of food poisoning,” Jeonghan said. “I appreciate your worry.” 

Relief flooded through him at that and he covered the hand still resting on his chest with his own, holding it steady. “Good, I’m glad. Now let’s get this over with before I pass out on your couch,” He said. He said it jokingly, but the adrenaline crash would knock him out cold. 

Jeonghan chuckled. “That wouldn’t be the worst thing.” And Chan couldn’t help the flush at the implication of it. He watched Jeonghan smirk knowingly as he extracted his hand from Chan’s. “I need you to sit up and put your feet on the floor. Can you do that for me?” He asked. The same playful cadence from the alley was in his voice with added sweetness and Chan found himself obeying once more. 

Chan braced himself and sat upright, ignoring the way his vision blurred out completely. He leaned against the back of the sofa and swung his legs around, feet planting on the carpet below. When the world finally stopped spinning, he looked up just in time to watch the other sink back down to his knees in front of him, whispering: “Good boy.” Chan inhaled sharply at that, desperately willing himself to not be excited about this. 

Because it shouldn’t be hot, having a centuries old predator kneeling between your legs getting ready to suck the poison out of your thigh. But it was and Chan wanted so badly for Jeonghan to take a bite. 

Jeonghan traced the skin of Chan’s inner thigh with his finger where the last of the hex was, and clearly fought the urge to smile. “You know, it’s been a long time since a hunter has sat in front of me and not quaked in fear,” He said. Chan had nothing to say to that, already trying to not squirm under the attention of the vampire. “This part won’t hurt as much, so do try and relax,” He said, pressing a soft kiss to his inner thigh. A shiver wracked through his body at that, earning him a curious glance.

“I’m, uhm, really sensitive there,” Chan said. He felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment, but Jeonghan only looked more than pleased. 

“Good. This will be better for you, then,” He said before quickly sinking his fangs into the supple skin. Chan jolted forward in pain at first, exploding through his veins, but unlike his chest, it faded quicker, dulling to a tingle and replaced with a warmth. Jeonghan braced one hand on Chan’s left thigh and curled his other hand around the one he was drinking from. Chan watched as the grey under his skin slowly disappeared and the warmth turned into a pleasant buzz. He sighed when Jeonghan swallowed once more before releasing his leg and licking the bite mark shut. 

“See?” Jeonghan said, unmoving, staring at Chan like a last meal. “That wasn’t so bad.” 

“Your lips are grey.” It was all Chan could say. Jeonghan dragged his tongue curiously against them and Chan had to stifle a groan. He could see the faintest hint of his fangs and knew he wanted to feel them again. 

“What? Is grey not my colour?” 

“I’d rather see them stained red,” Chan said. And that, oddly, seemed to catch the other off guard. He blinked owlishly at him. 

“Chan…”

“I said I’d make it worth your while.” He was determined, shifting forward, showing himself off. “Bite me again and have your fill.”

Jeonghan looked at Chan directly, unwavering, and the attention was too much. “I could kill you if I go too far.” He sounded concerned, but his pupils were turning dark again. 

But Chan...Chan _wanted_. He had wanted Jeonghan since he had heard the stories of him saving his clan during a raid, since he knew that there was something in him that made the clan understand that these creatures were perhaps more human than they understood. He wanted this, all of this, the complexities of the man who could kill him but wouldn’t--a true show of restraint and morality. “I trust you with this,” He said. 

Jeonghan shuddered, eyes closing at that as he nosed at Chan’s thigh again. It tickled, and his gut swooped dangerously low when Jeonghan traced his previous marks with his tongue, trailing higher, grazing his teeth against the delicate skin. “Please,” Chan whispered. Jeonghan delivered, sucking a bruise above the puncture wound and Chan moaned loudly, hips canting forward as he hardened in his boxers. Jeonghan continued to pepper kisses, dragging his mouth to the highest point of Chan’s exposed thigh, muscles twitching under his hands. “Jeonghan, please, it’s yours, please--” Chan babbled, desperate. And Jeonghan bit down, fangs sinking into him again, and this time it was only pleasure. 

Chan sighed, carding his hands through Jeonghan’s inky hair as heat coursed through him. It made his toes curl and back arch trying to get as close to the touch as possible to the euphoria of finally getting what he wanted. Jeonghan looked up at him and _oh_ god he wasn’t expecting the way his expression was blissed out, glassy eyes fixed on him while he drank and Chan felt like his brain was melting. He was barely aware of the featherlight tracing of his hip bone, a tender action contrasted to the inherently violent act of feeding on Chan. 

The difference in this violence was that Chan wanted--craved--felt like he was the one gaining something tangible from this. He sought answers, healing, and pleasure, and true to his steadfast nature he got them all. To a benefit or detriment, he couldn’t be sure, but he found it wouldn’t matter either way as in this moment he found himself being consumed by the feeling of being wanted in turn. This was a luxury he seldom indulged in and Jeonghan, opulent and lavish, was easy to fall into. To take and to give. 

This pleasure was fire licking up his body, kindling in his core, and it wasn’t enough he wanted _more_. Craved it like a man starved of touch and sensation having been a hunter for years. He wanted to be at the mercy of Jeonghan. He wanted Jeonghan to remember him, see him on his skin for as long as it would hold a mark. Chan knew what drinking human blood did to a vampire and wondered what his blood could do to Jeonghan. 

He softly trailed his hand down the side of Jeonghan’s face, delighting in the way a small flush of colour tinged his cheeks, the vampire’s eyes slipping shut at the action. Maybe they both were starved, too long without reprieve, fearing the repercussions, desiring it a little too much for either of their own good. Chan leaned forward, curling that same hand around the nape of Jeonghan’s neck and pulled gently enough to encourage the other to dig a bit deeper, bite a bit harder, _take_ more of what he deserved. Jeonghan leaned into it and Chan felt power in the sharing of desire.

And when Jeonghan unlatched his teeth from his thigh, Chan marveled in the way his lips were stained red. He was barely thinking when he met Jeonghan halfway, crashing together, breathing him in until he could taste his own blood curling around his tongue. The vampire groaned against his mouth, licking into him with reckless abandon and Chan couldn’t let go as he cupped Jeonghan’s face to kiss him deeper. He poured as much of his years of learning and knowledge and desire into the way he took Jeonghan’s upper lip between his own. 

Jeonghan broke away and Chan’s breath came out staggered around a moan as wet kisses were trailed across his jaw and down his throat. Teeth scraped gently across the tendons there and Chan was overcome with how much he wanted this. His thighs tightened around Jeonghan’s torso, the scratch of the material against his overheated and sensitive skin an anchor in his mind as the other palmed him. 

Hunger was a whip around his throat and he was at the mercy of the wielder. 

“Take.” Chan urged, rolling his hips up to meet the hand pressing incessantly there. “Take whatever you want. I give it willingly. Just please, don’t stop.” 

And Jeonghan obliged, taking until Chan’s mind went fuzzy with it, bite marks bruising like ivy around his thighs. He took as Chan tugged off his clothes, mouthing at any exposed skin, marbling it with teeth and tongue, loving the way his blood in Jeonghan’s veins pushed blush toned marks toward the surface, like a magnet. When Jeonghan took him into his mouth, Chan’s grip on reality slipped as he melted into the cushions below. He felt Jeonghan bite into his other thigh, blissed out. He gave and gave until he was satiated, back strained, throat raw, and the chandelier a blur in his vision. 

Then, Chan took for himself. He took Jeonghan into himself, until the other was spent, groans muffled in sweat slicked skin of his chest, and the twinge of the muscles in his thighs a burning sensation of success. The ache in Chan’s chest was soothed. 

In the afterglow, nestled between Jeonghan’s legs watching the fire burn slowly, he wondered what next. He was more comfortable than he had been in years and was sure it was the residual after effect of being able to be himself. There was a relief in the way he felt the weight of responsibility laced into his blood being lifted through sharing with someone who could take it. The hex was just the beginning of his curse, and he had found a little oasis away from his reality. An oasis found in a centuries old vampire who ought to have killed him.

Chan traced a sigil pattern absent mindedly into the skin of the arm holding him tight to Jeonghan’s chest. A born curse seeking familiarity in a made curse. “A blessing,” Wonwoo would say. Chan didn’t think so. He wondered what Jeonghan would think. He didn’t ask. 

“You think very loudly,” Jeonghan said. Chan could hear the amusement in his voice, a cold air against his ear. 

Chan tilted back, head resting against Jeonghan's shoulder. “Lucky for you, you can’t read minds.” 

“What a travesty it would be to be privy to whatever runs wild in your mind,” Jeonghan said. “You’re already terribly expressive. Every thought you have appears on your face moments before you do anything about it.” 

“Does it bother you?”

“No.” Jeonghan was honest, pulling Chan tighter against him, back to chest, face hidden from him. “I like that you don’t try to hide from me.” His words were accompanied by a kiss to Chan’s temple. “It makes it more fun when you do manage to surprise me.” Chan turned a bit more to look at Jeonghan, who, true to his words, could already see what Chan wanted. He kissed him softly, plush lips still swollen from before, and reveled in how easily Jeonghan gave. It wasn’t bruising or needy anymore, just gentle, an assurance of welcomed stay and appreciation. Jeonghan pulled away, once again staring unwaveringly at Chan in marvel and awe. “You trust far too easily,” He said. 

Chan positioned himself to face the fire again, enjoying the unnecessary huff Jeonghan made at the action. “I don’t trust you, Jeonghan,” Chan said. “I respect you.” 

There was a pause long enough that Chan thought the conversation was over, where the air grew thick and strange, where Jeonghan didn’t move and in the absence of breath and heartbeats, Chan had no way of knowing what the other was thinking. So he said nothing and simply waited, fiddling with Jeonghan’s fingers which were splayed out across his inner thigh, covering the bite marks with his palm. Chan marveled at the bruises forming already, beautiful stains of colour as a reminder that he met Jeonghan at all, a little trophy for him to hang in his heart like art on a wall until it inevitably faded. Real art was not meant to last, Chan supposed, but the artist would live on. 

There was something philosophical in all that, something sublime, about Jeonghan outlasting all his creations--a perversion of nature, twisting what it meant to give and take until the roots of art and artist became so muddled that there was no way to separate the two. Chan silently preened at his participation in all of this, as canvas, as muse, as art itself, all molded, melted down like gold into a cast by the artist, an outlier of death. To choose to be an artist, to have a moral compass, while resting outside the bonds of time, was something that was more human than humanity itself. It was an explanation, a revelation, and Chan figured that there was something transcendent to be gleaned from all of this. It is what drew him to Jeonghan in the first place. 

An artist out of time with nothing but time. A creation out of humanity, man made, unchanging, with a moral code so strong it was carved into legend. A being beyond what a mind could comprehend. Jeonghan was cosmic. Divine. Chan would worship at his altar. But he had none, for no one would worship a creation so distinctly opposite to themselves, yet too close to the otherness a human craved. So he made his altar between Jeonghan’s knees, on his carpet, in his heart. Worship and prayer sewn into his truth as he spoke it. Sacrifice and offerings given in the form of mottled skin and an exposed neck. Canvas to artist. Worshipper to a god. It was all the same to Chan. 

Jeonghan shifted, sitting up straighter and released his hold on Chan, who mourned the loss for only a moment until Jeonghan urged him to turn to face him. He complied easily, limbs still malleable, mind whirring as he watched Jeonghan’s eyes flit back and forth between his own. The fire cast a beautiful glow on his marble skin, making it appear as though he could be living, like he would be warm to the touch. Distinctly human in his own right. Chan couldn’t help but lean in to capture his lips again between his own. The taste of blood had long since been licked clean from his mouth but Chan found the taste of Jeonghan himself to be even more tantalizing. Clean, metallic, and icy. It pulled a shudder from the hunter before a kind hand pushed him away forcing him to refocus on the vampire in front of him. “If you respect me so, will you answer something for me?” Jeonghan asked and Chan hummed his assent. “What is the real reason you sought me out?”

Chan seldom lied anyway. Found no reason to. Honest as he ever was he rested his hand against the column of Jeonghan’s throat, delighted again in the way the other simply let him _take_ , as he said: “I studied you. I learned your history, your exploits, and wanted to put a face to the name of legend.” He said it with certainty. That was the truth. 

Jeonghan’s mouth tilted into something closer to a scowl, but he was much more visually guarded than Chan ever was. “So you do intend to kill me.” It wasn’t a question. Chan realized Jeonghan only ever asked when he thought he already knew the answer. 

“I never had any intention of killing you,” Chan said. He let Jeonghan wrap his hand around his wrist, hold his pulse, study his heart and his eyes for any trace of a lie. He would find none. “I maintain that intention now. I wanted to get to know you. You changed the way my clan hunted forever. It is because of you that we do not blindly kill any and all, and that we do more research, save more than we harm. You changed us for the better. I wanted to meet the one who altered our fate.” 

It was slow the way Jeonghan began to smile. It was unlike any smile he had given Chan before, something unsettling and unnatural rooting in place, making Chan feel uneasy. His lips curled over his fangs, pearlescent in the light of the fire, and his eyes returned to an inky shade, taking over his entire eye. Chan was barely aware of the other hand snaking into his hair, twirling fingers through the strands at the base until his head was violently tugged backwards and an angle that made his throat strain with the effort to swallow. Chan gasped, more in surprise than in pain, and shivered as Jeonghan leaned in to nose at his jaw, trailing cold kisses to his ear. 

“I am not good,” Jeonghan hissed, a vicious thing, burrowing into his mind. “Don’t attribute Seungcheol’s mercy to me and don’t you dare project your martyr complex onto me. I find you interesting, so tread lightly. You’re only human, after all.” 

He let go of Chan, letting him take his time to face Jeonghan upright again and for the first time since becoming a hunter, Chan felt something horrible prickling at the back of his neck, acidic and cruel as it pooled in his gut and made his body twitch. It was fear. In its rawest most poisonous form, it was fear that began to claw at his insides and make his mind buzz. He could feel it everywhere under his skin, unable to tamp down his instincts. His body was giving in to the need to flee, and he knew Jeonghan could see this shift as Chan looked at him properly. The difference was that Chan still wanted, alongside that fear, he desired more, wanted to know more, _feel_ more, and if that made him a fool then so be it. He drank in everything, let the mixture of fear and desire pour down his throat like wine as he surged forward to kiss Jeonghan roughly, who returned it in kind. 

This was different. It felt new. And Chan took and took until sharp teeth dragged across his lip, harsh enough to break skin, the promise of something terrifying and real blossoming under the warmth of blood in their mouths. He crawled into Jeonghan’s lap, icy skin against hot, and allowed himself to fall into the trap the other had set. Moth to flame, bird to silver, art to artist, Chan to Jeonghan, it was inevitable. Even if Jeonghan walked outside of the rule of time, fate still had a hold over Chan’s mortality, and he knew since he heard of the other that this is where he would be, one way or another. 

Jeonghan kissed him like a lifeline, like his only thread to reality, hard and deep like he could carve it out of him and take it for himself. Everywhere he held was with an intensity that broke blood vessels under Chan’s skin, mottling him more, marking him better, a claim, a confession. Jeonghan kissed him until he moved for air, panting unceremoniously against his cheek. Chan didn’t need to look at the other to know his lips would be red again, as were his own, but couldn’t help himself. Reddened lips and flushed cheeks with mussed dark hair was Jeonghan’s best look in Chan’s opinion. 

Jeonghan swiped his thumb against the plush of Chan’s bottom lip, stinging where it moved over the split. Chan bit back a groan, willing himself to hold back. “You’re a fool. The most foolish man of them all.” Jeonghan said. He looked unbothered, but interested, and Chan urged him to explain with a kitten lick of his tongue to the pad of his thumb. Jeonghan examined him, convinced of something Chan couldn’t begin to parse. 

“The debt I owed to Seungcheol was filled when I did not kill you in the alley. The rest was of my own doing,” He said. “Which means you now owe me a debt worth the weight of your life.” 

Chan wished he was surprised by this, but he long since knew of Jeonghan’s antics. He was clever, cunning, and could lie with the best of them. Chan never tried to hide from this fate. He always met his challenges head on and this was no more dissimilar than the other hardships of his life. “I accept that debt. I give into it willingly.” Jeonghan smiled ruefully, tugging him forward by a hand at his nape to kiss him again, thoroughly, soundly. Another promise. 

Chan was cursed, but in this moment as he gave himself over to Jeonghan who was painting him in dark blues, purples, and royal reds, he believed he could be blessed. And what is the purpose of art if not to be consumed? Chan would let himself be devoured whole. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u squint u can pinpoint the exact moment i managed to jolt my final brain cell back into existence
> 
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